


Ghost

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Original Work
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Forced Feminization, Forced to enjoy it, Ghost Sex, Rapist Plays at Domesticity, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that everything had changed after the accident. Joseph himself was a changed man…andshewas responsible.
Relationships: Girl's Ghost/The Man Who Killed Her
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/gifts).



Joseph donned an apron as soon as he entered the kitchen. The apron in question had pink lace ruffles. He wasn’t necessarily convinced the apron was necessary, and the pink lace ruffles weren’t convenient for the actual labours of the kitchen, but since _she_ liked them, the apron with the pink lace ruffles had become a regular fixture in Joseph’s domestic life.

Tonight he was making a big pot of vegan chili. Both healthy and hearty, he figured it ought to last him at least four days. He browned the chopped onions and garlic in olive oil first before adding in cans of beans, diced tomatoes and jalapeño peppers. Then he seasoned with liberal amounts of cumin, cayenne and cracked black pepper, stirred thoroughly, put the lid back on the pot and left it on the hob to heat. He’d already purchased a fresh sourdough baguette from the bakery across the street from the office before commencing his journey home.

The strong smells of his cooking kept him company whilst he proceeded with his evening routine. He did some tidying and chose a suit for tomorrow morning. He took his vitamins and took out his contacts. He’d paused to scan the latest news headlines on his phone when he heard the lid of his pot rattle. His chili was being stirred.

‘Ah, wow! This looks absolutely delicious,’ called out a sweet, girlish voice from the kitchen. ‘Credit where credit is due, Seppy. I’m so impressed by how much you’ve managed to improve your cooking.’

Joseph ignored the praise and the pet name and kept on reading the latest in national politics. It wasn’t like _she_ was going to be having any of his chili, after all, so what the bloody hell would _she_ know or care?

He wasn’t always such a homebody. He never used to like staying in or cooking his own meals. He used to head straight to the pub most nights instead, hanging out with his mates and imbibing a liquid supper. Sometimes he even had a date to drive home. And if the morning hangover was to be his lot in life, well, he didn’t mind.

All that had changed after the accident. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that everything had changed after the accident. Joseph himself was a changed man…and _she_ was responsible.

Joseph didn’t necessarily like to admit it aloud, but _she_ was right: His chili was indeed absolutely delicious, and he had two helpings along with a big hunk of sourdough bread before his belly decided that enough was enough for one sitting.

‘Seppy, come to bed now,’ she said. It was a command, not a request.

‘Aw, well, I really ought to do the washing up first,’ said Joseph. ‘The downstairs neighbour tells me they’ve been having problems with roaches, and I don’t want their problem to spread to my – ’

‘I said “now”, didn’t I, Seppy? I could have sworn I did.’

The sweet voice had taken on a distinctly chilly note, and Joseph felt a corresponding shiver race down his spine. He’d learnt the hard way of what could happen if he didn’t hasten to obey her commands, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again any time soon. So he rose from the table and took off the apron with the pink lace ruffles. It, along with his dirty dishes, were just going to have to stay right where he left them.

‘You can do the washing up in the morning.’

‘All right.’

Before _she_ became a part of his life, Joseph used to sleep naked. He’d lived alone – what did it matter? But because _she_ liked cream-coloured silk panties and filmy nightshirts, this was what he wore to bed. She liked the slide of the fabric against his skin, he supposed, and she liked being able to push the nightshirt up to expose his chest, to squeeze and twist his nipples so that they never stopped aching. It was one of her ways of ensuring he never forgot about her – not even during the daytime when they had to be apart.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t control how his body responded to her fingers on his cock. They were so cold they made him cringe, but he didn’t dare voice any protest. And besides, it never seemed to matter – her ministrations made him rock hard in under a minute. How his body betrayed him with its dumb male enthusiasm...! Now he was bursting from the flimsy front of his cream-coloured silk panties, and there was no need to even remove them. Simpler, by far, just to tug them aside and proceed without delay.

And yes, that was exactly what she planned to do. He felt her thin thighs straddling his hips, her pussy settling on top of him and sliding intimately along the underside of his shaft. She weighed nothing, and she was so small, yet he didn’t need to push or to thrust. She pulled his cock into her with the force of a tidal undertow. Or, hell, the vacuum of a cosmic black hole. He couldn’t stop her from fucking him, and he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying it.

It shouldn’t have been possible to enjoy her; she was cold inside too. Colder than ice. But somehow the cold only made Joseph hotter, and he couldn’t stop himself from responding when she wanted to ride him. He bent his legs and dug his heels into the mattress to give him the leverage to bury himself as deep as he could into the very heart of her coldness. No, _no_ , he didn’t want this. But no matter how vehemently he told his body he didn’t want it, the cold only made him cum harder. When he pulsed into her, _she_ was the one who shivered uncontrollably.

‘S-Seppy – !’ quavered the sweet, girlish voice. Her breath was a stinging frost against his cheek as she collapsed on top of him. She could be expected to remain there till first light.

This was no one-night stand, and it’d been no hit and run either. Though he’d been fast to drive away from the body he’d left in the road, Joseph had never really escaped the nameless girl he’d struck whilst driving home from the bar that night. After all these years, he figured he never would.

‘You’re getting very good at this. I’ve trained you well, haven’t I?’ said the ghost girl.

‘You’ve transformed my life,’ replied Joseph. It was incontrovertibly true, and it was the only safe thing for him to say. He closed his eyes to wait for morning.


End file.
